


Of Fire and Brimstone

by ASOUEfan



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: AU - Ancient Rome, Aged-Up Characters, Collars, Era appropriate slavery, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Gratuitous Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Roman baths, Slaves weren't treated very well, This is Ancient Rome after all, Threats of Violence, Very In Auctions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-01-07 09:49:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18408161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASOUEfan/pseuds/ASOUEfan
Summary: Count Olaf and Esme are one of the wealthiest couples on the hill, with a splendid Villa and their every need attended to. Olaf's greed gets the better of him, and strikes a deal with the Man with a Beard but no Hair, and the Woman with Hair but no Beard.Bored, Esme goes to the City and is entertained by Gunther, the owner of the biggest Auction House in the city. When all of the usual slave offerings fail to excite her, she sees something new, a young-looking girl with long brown hair and a gleam in her eye.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have read up about Ancient Rome for this, but its obviously not going to be 100% historically accurate or anything. Its just for fun. :)

Esme stretched her arm slowly, reaching for a grape from the bowl and popping it int her mouth with a slow smile. She lounged regally on a turquoise and gold chaise lounge, her long wavy hair reaching beautifully over her chest and down her back. It was only her platinum blonde hair and a thin slip of coral red material that covered her chest, clipped together on each shoulder with a gold brooch, widening over the breast and collected at the waist in a flowing sort of look that let her slip her leg out form between the lengths of material when she desired. “Darling? Are you done yet? This is so dreadfully boring -“ She complained, calling out across the marble hall to her husband, who sat across the small internal fountain with a few other men of import, discussing _important matters_ which she as a woman was not allowed to partake. She glanced up at one of her slaves who was fanning her in a slow practised motion. “Go.” She ordered, flicking her fingers at the boy. He looked awkward about the request, but nodded and lay down his palm to cross the hall and murmur quietly into the Counts ear. 

She peered, trying to gauge her husbands reaction, but he simply waved her boy away. He retuned without a word, simply shaking his head and up taking his palm once again ready to fan her some more. Esme scowled, huffing impatiently. She swung her legs off the chaise and marched around the fountain, the light material billowing behind her. “Darling. I don't like being ignored. When will you boys be done?” She demanded, stretching her arms wide onto her hips and looking between them with disdain. 

Count Olaf finished his cup of wine and laughed at her. “When were done.” 

She bunched her lips and glanced to the side. She wore a crown too for fucks sake, _she_ had the money he was so eagerly spending, buying himself influence and position in society. “You do remember who’s funding this little exchange of yours, hmm?” 

He stood, snatching her wrist pulling it from her waist and dragging her a few steps away from the other men. “The negotiations, are at a very delicate stage my pet and I do not wish to have them _ruined_ because of your vanity and need to be the centre of attention. Go to the market and buy yourself a new slave, I don't care.” He threw her arm back at her and returned to the two men, though now Esme was closer she wasn’t sure if one was a man and one a woman, they both looked oddly similar. 

Esme ran her tongue along her teeth and grunted frustratedly. “Fine!” She yelled, turning on her delicate gold heels and storming back to her chaise to collect both her current favourite boytoy and her security, yelling at whoever was nearby to ready her carriage, for they were going to town. 

The short journey to the market square was a dusty, sticky affair. Even with the wind gusting gently through the long curtains around her carriage she still felt as though the smell the, dusty desperation of the peasants in the street was getting into her pores. Orphans everywhere, adults in scrappy clothing barefoot on the sand begging as they went past. It disgusted her. She was glad the particular market she was heading to was in a more sophisticated part of town. 

Taking her boys hand as she stepped out of the carriage onto the white stone brick road - for here at least there was a road, she was greeted by one of the _Innest_ auctioneers in town. “Pretty lady Esme, so good to see you _please_ ,” Gunther crowed, coming over to her and taking her hand only to bring it to his lips in a theatrical kiss. 

She fluttered her hand to her chest in mock delight, the way women of wealth were taught to. “Oh, you do flatter me Gunther, as always. Have you got some new stock for me?” 

He smiled and lifted his dark square glasses to give her a wink. “Only ze best _please_ for you, one of my best clients in the City.” He led her through a low doorway into the business of the auction house, sellers and buyers hurrying around and darting apart when they saw who was coming through. “Make way - yes make way you filthy people …” He waved his hand at them, a few employees of the auction house bowing which pleased Esme greatly. They reached a small ante-chamber which was lavishly decorated for Esme - or whichever rich buyer he was entertaining that day’s, comfort. There was a small sofa designed only for one or two people, in this case one. A side table with fruits and refreshments which she indicated to her boy. He unclasped his hands from behind his back and poured her a tall glass of something fruity and exotic. No doubt heavily plied with alcohol prospective buyers were more likely to make that gamble. She sniffed it and grinned at the handsome foreign man who clapped his hands to his associates. They filed out to collect todays merchandise, giving Esme a chance to taste her drink before the delicacies were brought in. 

“Ohh Gunther you don't know how good it is to get out of the house, Olaf is completely ignoring me. Me! I mean look at me how can anyone ignore this?!” She shrieked with disappointment, waving her hands down indicating her fabulous and well toned body. 

Gunther flicked his cane in front of him with every step, then tossed it in the air making Esme whoop with delight, catching and spinning it in his hand only to end his little dance on one knee in front of her, flicking his long eyebrow in a playfully suggestive fashion. “He is a stupid man, _please_ if you would pardon how I am saying. Pretty lady Esme cannot, ever, ever be ignored. She must be worshipped!” He cried, clapping his hands again to signal his associates waiting outside to bring the boys in. 

Esme sat back and started to relax, already feeling better. There was a short parade to start, as there always was, the men walking around the room so she could take a first glance at their physiques, their heights and general endowments. She smirked at one or two, purring to herself. She pointed at the 2nd and 5th to be brought back to her, and she stood to take a closer look. They were of good stature, well muscled. She leant behind and felt the one mans ass, but was disappointed at it in her hand. She shook her head and waved him away. “No, too soft. Hasn't he ever been in the Arena?” She scoffed, trailing her fingers over the remaining man, coming close to him as her eyes lit up at his firm arms, his big rough hands. “How much is this one?” 

Gunther smiled a thin knowing smile bringing his hands together to make a little arch with his fingers. “Oh, you have the good of the taste. Always find the most expensive one.”

“How much.”

“7000.”

Esme rolled her eyes at him. “This is me, Gunther, not some street caller. Whats _my_ price?” 

“That is your price Pretty Lady. He is already well sponsored. I have many bids on the books before the auction opens. If you want him …?” Gunther proposed, clacking his cane on the stone floor. 

She sighed, dropping her hands to her sides and shaking her head flicking her hand for him to be taken away. “No … no he's just more of the same. I want something, new… something different. Beautiful. Young. Something I can … tame.” 

Gunther raised his dark glasses once again to peer at her. “You want surprises.” 

“Get me something different. The whole reason I’m here is because I’m bored. If you want me to spend my money get me something I actually want,” Esme scolded him and sat back down, her gold bracelets clinking together on her wrist. She sipped her drink and reached for her current boys hand, holding it and kissing it making herself feel better. “You know what I want don't you sweetheart.” The man whom she never knew the real name of, for she had given him a new one upon purchase, ran his touch under her chin, giving her neck a gentle squeeze that made her groan in delight. When Gunther returned, he was grinning, overly pleased with himself. This victorious look to him irritated Esme, for it was she who should be deciding when she was satisfied. “Well?” 

He clapped his hands again and in filed two of his employees, one leading a girl, the other, a boy and a small child. 

Esme frowned, downing her glass and beckoning it to be refilled. “What on _earth_ is this? I’m not in the market for house slaves,” She said witheringly. All three had shackled wrists and looked as though they hadn't eaten properly for weeks, maybe months. 

“Trust me,” Gunther replied in his heavy accent, walking slowly over to the eldest, the girl, and moving her hair away from her face. “She is a very talented girl, only I ‘ave had some _please_ hardship in finding her the right place.” The girl tore away from his touch making her the metal of her shackles rattle. “She was once _please,_ one of the most eligible young heiresses in town, only to have her _please_ family and position taken down by fire.”

“It was arson,” The girl spat vehemently. “And they weren’t _taken_ , anywhere. They were murdered.” She looked between Gunther and the rich woman sitting in front of her, another self indulgent self absorbed wife of a senator no doubt. Violet looked her up and down with a growling contempt. 

Gunther huffed. “See what I mean.” 

“But she's a girl,” Esme said in confusion, shoving her glass towards her boy toy to take as she stood and brushed her fingers clean of fruit pith. “What am I meant to do with - “ She took the girl by the chin and made her look up at her. There was something, curious about her to be sure. A wealthy young heiress somehow forced into slavery. It was an intriguing story. Esme undid the knot of material on the girls shoulder and what could only vague pass for a dress fell the floor, the material pooling at Violets ankles. 

The boy lunged forwards a step, bluh’ing something incoherent. Gunther narrowed his eyes at his employee. “Please, don’t mind him. Their last owner found he _please_ talked too much, constantly defining dis and dat and trying to make suggestions - so they clipped his tongue. But its just a piercing you can remove it if you wish. I mean _please_ this is why no-one wants slaves to be able to read, am I right?” 

Violet leered at Gunther. “We weren’t always slaves. You know that. Our parents taught us to -“ She was silenced by his hand across her cheek. She panted a few angry breaths and flicked her hair from her face. 

“You said you wanted something to tame. Something me to _please_ surprise you with. Here it is.” Gunther declared, stepping back and encouraging Esme to do the same. 

Esme had said little since undoing the girls dress. Her body was lithe, of course and hard worked for a girl of her age. There were more bruises than not, but Esme deduced her to be fairly pale, despite her dark hair. Clearly she had spent much time in the sun. A gentle curve to her hips and a tight, pert ass. Her breasts were small but good enough, not that Esme had much to judge by besides her own and what she could see through the dresses of their house slaves. She found herself strangely caught by the sight of her. “How much?” Esme murmured, finding her tongue resting on her lips. 

“3500. For the set.” 

“Oh I don’t want _them_ ,” Esme indicated with a nod. “Just her.” 

Gunther laughed, touching his hands to his lips and shaking his head. “I’m afraid dat will not work. I have tried to split them before but, she _please_ runs away. Or the other does. They're like homing pigeons only they don't return home, but to each other. They caught her of course but, had already caused too much trouble for her master, so he returned her.” 

Esme took a slow deep breath, and walked up to the girl again. She was fascinated by the idea of it, _a female lover_? One with a soul so strong and a fire in her eyes that just, mmm, Esme could already taste it. Gunther had said she was talented, but how would this girl go about pleasuring her? It could be fun… it could frustrate and annoy her husband … which made it seem an even better idea. With an irrepressible urge she touched her fingers to the girls skin, a small gasp escaping her lips. Her skin was soft, pliant, supple under her touch and she roamed her hand over the girls hips, her waist and breast like a voyager discovering something rare and beautiful. 

Violet watched the woman, who could in a few moments be their new owner. It was not the first time she had had a mistress and not a master, and in some ways preferred it, but knew from experience they could be just as cruel. This one seemed, unsure. Violet tilted her head just as curiously. 

“Fine. 3000 and I’ll take them now,” Esme haggled with the auctioneer, standing back and folding her arms determinedly. “No auction no fees, just cash.” 

“Sold!” Gunther flapped his arms into a strange and outrageous dance, tapping his heels and dance-turning a small circle happily. Gunther nodded to his workers and they unlocked the shackles round the siblings wrists. The younger two looked happily at one another, rubbing their wrists in thankful sore motions. 

Violet held her hands out for them to be unlocked, and Esme plucked one of her own many scarves from the chaise and held it out to her to take, cover herself for their journey home. “Whats your name?” Esme murmured, as the girls shackles dropped to the floor with a clang. 

She accepted the offer of a dress, and wrapped it around herself tying it off over one shoulder. “Violet. Violet Baudelaire.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The carriage ride seemed a whole lot longer on the way back to the Villa, Esme and her new curiosities staring at one another in silent wonderment. Neither could discern much from the other apart from what was visually obvious. Violet guessed at her new Domina’s age, her status, the volume of her bank balance judged by the number of jewelled adornments she wore. Klaus sat Sunny in his lap, aware as ever that their position was an insecure one, and depended upon Violets purchase price being worth her looks and abilities. He knew his sister struggled with the position they found themselves in, they all did of course, but the value in their sale was hers, and therefore much of the responsibility lay with her too. 

They pulled into the long driveway of Esme’s Villa, tall wooden gets closing behind them. Violet immediately starting checking out the height of the walls around the yard, the mechanism on the gate, looking for weaknesses and ways out. Klaus could tell because she had tied her hair up to think, when most people thought it was just to keep her hair out of her face. Long hair was fashionable and pretty on almost all women, but in the long summer heat it was also a sweaty nuisance.  

“Here we are,” Esme announced to them, leisurely waiting to be offered the hand of her current boy helping her out of the carriage, fanning herself idly. “Come along.” 

The three Baudelaire hopped out of the carriage with no such help, little clouds of dust rising around their feet as they landed on the soft ground. The soil was a reddish clay, Violet noted thoughtfully. They followed their new Domina towards the large pillared entranceway, awed by the splendour and glamour of the place. Long tendrils of plants dangled out of high fastened hanging baskets, a fountain acted as water feature and central open square in the Villa, everything working around it with rooms and hallways branching off. “Ready my bath,” Esme called to the trio of identically dressed waiting handmaidens, who nodded and scurried away. Violet watched them and wondered whether she was about to become number 4 in that line. “Take those two to the stables, I’m sure the Stablemaster can find something for them todo. And sleeping quarters. I don't want them up here I’ve no use for them.” She directed the larger of her two guards, who shepherded Klaus and Sunny apart from their sister.

“No! Wait - “ Violet rushed to them, giving them both a warm hug and kissing Sunny on the forehead. “I’ll come and see you, tonight if I can. Be safe.” She whispered, the second of Esme’s two guards dragging her away from her siblings with a firm fist in the hair. “Alright! I was only saying goodbye - “ She complained, twisting away from him and scowling. 

Esme eyed her in puzzlement. She acted nothing like any slave she had owned before. Granted she hadn’t been born into it, but it had been two years and many failed placements, from what Gunther had said. She should understand her place by now. “Is my husband here?” She asked another house-slave who was walking by with an urn of wine. 

“In the atrium Domina,” She answered. 

“Splendid. We’ll bathe. Then have ourselves a little fun,” Esme grinned, her eyes sparkling wickedly. “Come.” She ordered, barely looking at Violet as she headed across the courtyard and to the right of the fountain towards the bathroom. Violet dutifully followed, along with Esmes boy toy and another carrying a tray of flowers and fruits. 

She made a mental map of the places she saw, glancing through doorways and around corners until they reached their destination in the bowels of the house, a mosaic’d sunken roman bath, two in fact beside each other with steaming water filled to the brim. Violet almost groaned audibly. It had been years since she had had a proper bath like this, was this woman really going to allow her in with her?   In their childhood Villa she had benefitted from one similar, but far less grand. Her parents were wealthy but didn't believe in splashing it around the way most senators did, this woman clearly falling into the latter category. She stood by the edge of the deep pool, her toes practically lapping at the waters edge. She didn't want to get her hopes up should she be mistaken. She was a slave, after all, and to bathe with ones mistress was quite the opening statement of what her status would be in the household. 

Esme’s golden leather sandals slapped the tiled floor as she walked around the waters edge to the seats, unclipping her belt, unpinning the brooch from her shoulder and letting the shimmering coral dress slip to the floor in a light ghosting motion. Like most women of this sort, she was used to bathing with an audience, living most of her life surrounded by slaves and courtiers or visiting men of means. To be beautiful and desirable was the way to power, as a woman. Importantly, she left the leafed golden headband in place, removing only a few of the bracelets with more precious gemstones in. She felt it consequential that even naked, bathing or fucking, her position as head of the house remained clear to those around her. 

Violet watched the womans bathing ritual, curiosity getting the better of her when her new mistress looked over and caught her staring. Violet dropped her eyes hurriedly and waited for her reprimand.

“Take those rags off, I want to look at you,” She snapped, standing naked from the seat to step slowly into the water, moaning softly at the wet warmth engulfing her body. 

The girl was confused. Where was the beating? Instead, she lifted her eyes again and frowned slightly. “Its … your shawl you gave me at the auction house,” Violet reminded her, a little befuddled. 

Esme lapped her hands over the water and made small ripples around her. “And now its been all over your dirty body. So its ruined isn't it.” 

She untied the knot she had made earlier, and unwound the material from her body once again exposing herself from top to toe. She wrapped the silvery material around her hand, the softness of it like nothing she had been allowed since she was free. The way Esme had thrust her the shawl as if it was of little value to her made her bold enough to ask. “Can I keep it?” Violet begged gently, gazing at the fabric wantonly. 

Esme ran her tongue along her teeth. “If it makes you feel like you own something.” 

Violet smiled, nodding and placing it carefully down far from the edge of the pool. “Thank you,” She said gratefully, struck for a moment how the wonder or something so simple would never have been known to her, were she still in the position of wealth she had grown up in. She hesitantly climbed down the steps in to the pool, encouraged by the lack of punishment thus far. 

The three handmaidens promptly reappeared in a different dress, far less material to it - if one could even call it a dress at all, for it only wound around their hips. Two carried bowls of cremes and soaps, the other flowers and fresh oil, all which were placed around the edge of the bath before they too got into the water and went about their duties. Violet expected all three to bustle around her new mistress, but to her surprise one was directed over to her. “Do her,” Esme flicked her fingers at the girl, who nodded in understanding and took her work across the water to Violet, taking her hand and started soaping her fingers in a strange and intimate way. 

“Hey,” Violet twitched her hand away and narrowed her eyes at the girl. She had never been one to use their house slaves for things like this, though their father had reminded her it was their job and duty to look after their masters, it had never sat right with Violet. 

Esme scoffed at her. “Don’t act so ungrateful, haven’t you ever had a bath? Let them wash you.” She ordered, both her arms currently being soaped and rinsed, sweet smelling oils combed through her hair by the fingers of her handmaidens. It was a luxurious experience and just what she needed after a dusty trip through the City. She waited until Violet actively acquiesced, giving the third handmaiden her hand back to wash. “I want all traces of that foul place off you.”

“Why did you buy us?” Violet dared, lowering one arm as her other was taken, feeling the sponge roaming over her back and wincing just slightly as it rubbed over the fresher bruises she had endured. The handmaidens stilled their work, looked at one another in surprise and horror at this girl speaking so out of turn. 

Esme scowled at them and they straight away continued their gentle ministrations as though nothing was afoot. She couldn't have this sort of gossip in the house on the first day. There would have to be repercussions for such boldness. She shook herself free of her handmaidens and swam her legs through the water as she walked slowly across the pool to her new slave. Violet straightened her shoulders and kept her chin high, holding her own as best she could. If it had been a man approaching her, her natural fear would spike. But women punished in different ways, she had found, and waited to see what this one would do. 

Esme curled her long fingers into Violets hair and yanked her head back hard, arching her neck at a painful angle and whispering in her ear. “I don't care that you’re new, you know whats expected of you. Don’t you dare speak to me like that again,” She threatened, then placed a soft kiss on the shell of Violets ear. She indicated her boy to come over and help, taking Violet by surprise when she tugged her hair farther down, knocking her into the water and finding it covering her face, making her cough and splutter as she came back up, but it was only a split second before she felt too strong hands on her shoulders, male for sure, pushing her back down and holding her under the water. Esme disentangled her fingers and folded her arms, turning her cheek slightly to avoid the rampant splashing and struggling. She waited a beat or two, then nodded to her boy who let Violet up, gasping for air and coughing hard. “Understand, pet?” 

Violet nodded hurriedly, her coughs croaky and wet as she cleared her throat of water, panting, her cheeks red from panic and shame. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Later that day, Violet thought on her new circumstances as she followed Esme’s entourage through the Villa to the balcony. The place seemed well maintained, well _manned_ , for a family of 2. She could hear or see no trace of children, so assumed it was the two of them. She hadn’t yet run into the Count himself, but she sensed and hoped, she would have little to do with him. Esme herself was a flamboyant sort, wealthy enough to rival the richest in the City, Violet guessed. She wondered if the woman had known her parents, if they had frequented the same VFD functions at the Gladiatorial Arena. Each new Owner brought her another chance to find out information regrading the fire that destroyed her home; and each time she let a flicker of hope light in the dark corners of mind, that perhaps this time, _this time_ would be the one. She could find out the truth and uncover the identity of the arsonist - for Violet was certain it was and not simply an unfortunate event. So far, however, each of those flickers of hope had been thoroughly doused and extinguished. 

Chairs were set up facing the olive groves, a gentle breeze whistling through the leaves. The sunshine was blinding and brilliant, making Violet squint as she emerged from inside. It felt good to have the sun on her skin, really feel its healing warmth. She held only a robe around herself, at Esmes request, for the finest dress maker in the city was coming, she had said. There was a small stool that Esme clicked her fingers at, before sitting herself down lounging on one of the chairs. “You’re going to have the most fabulous life with me,” She said impressively, displaying such a grandiose level of narcissism that Violet wondered what the woman truly believed about herself, and what was simply practised repeated lines to show off. “All the best premiers, theatre trips, gallery openings, the finest booth at the Gladiatorial Arena …cockfights!” Esme clapped, taking a wondrous breath in and sighing at the imagined fun they would have together. She was more than looking forward to dropping a few jaws when she was seen with her latest arm candy. It was going to blow their minds, and Esme couldn't wait. 

Violet stepped up on to the wooden stool as instructed, not listening to the woman’s showboating, distracted by the view. It was so open and vast, she felt as though she could whisper her problems to the wind and have them carried away to some distant place. It was a tempting thought. 

She heard the announcing footsteps of the house-guard, making her turn back to her current reality and the approaching rolls of fabric balanced on the shoulders of a fair haired middle aged woman. Violet watched as the woman unloaded her rolls of fabric onto a table, and a second pair of hands behind her doing the same. It was only when she turned to greet Esme did Violet truly see her face. Her eyes widened. 

“Countess Squalor, thank you so much for inviting me here again, we are proud to dress the sixth most important financial advisor in the City,” Jacquelyn Scieszka announced in polite greeting, approaching Esme who stood in acknowledgement of her arrival. 

“You are the finest dress maker in the City, I wouldn't dream of asking anyone else,” Esme beamed, holding out her hand for the woman to take, who dutifully did so bending and kissing her knuckles lightly. “But today is not for me. I have a new girl.” Esme gestured with her returned hand, clasping them together proudly at her waist. “Isn’t she adorable?” 

Jacquelyn followed the woman’s gesturing hand, and her practiced, smiling expression faded, in quiet disbelief. “Violet?” She gasped. 

Violet nodded and stepped off the stool hurrying to the woman with tears pricking her eyes, throwing her arms around Jacquelyn. “Yes, yes its me, you recognise me - “ She buried herself in the familiarity of something from her past, _someone,_ from her past who knew who she really was. Not a mouthy, poorly behaving slave who needed a good beating. For a moment she had feared that the past two years would have changed her so significantly that Jacquelyn would not know her. 

The older woman cradled Violet in her arms and held her tightly. “Of course I recognise you - where have you been? What are you doing here? I looked for you!” She demanded in a worried voice, encouraging her back enough that she could search her eyes for answers. 

“You did?” Violet said uncertainly, sniffing and wiping her cheeks. She would never have expected such an outpouring of emotion, but the last two years had been miserable, and she had been abused and exploited in ways she couldn't ever have imagined, that one human being could do to another. 

Esme cleared her throat loudly and dramatically, prancing directly toward the pair causing Jacquelyn to turn her body slightly, as if to shield Violet from the approach of potential punishment. “Why are you talking to my slave as if - “ She changed direction and asked Violet instead, her ownership of the girl implying her honesty was already bought. “What are you both going on about? You’re actually crying do you know that? Stop it. Its not attractive. I didn't buy you to wail like a child - “

“I know her,” replied Violet quickly, pulling her emotions into check and drying her eyes. “We know each other. She made my mothers dresses,” She explained, glancing at Jacquelyn comfortingly. “Sometimes she would, stay at the house and watch us if my parents were out of of the City on business.” She wanted desperately to stay near Jacquelyn, as silly as it felt she was the first tangible piece of her past she had come across, proof it hadn't all been a dream, for it felt like so long ago. 

Jacquelyn glanced back to Violet, their eyes meeting, this was all she needed to understand everything Violet was trying to say. “I’ve watched Violet grow up, Countess.” Jacquelyn explained, trying to assuage the powerful woman away from whatever impulsive action she was thinking. Neither were acting purposefully disrespectful, or undermining her by standing there embracing and crying - but they couldn't help it. “Klaus and Sunny too.” 

But Esme simply stared at them both, incredulous and jealous. She folded her arms with a frown. “Who?” 

Violet should be angry about the way the Countess dismissed them so off-hand, but she realised the woman had probably never been told their names. Slaves usually didn't keep their names from one Master to another, and she had yet to exchange two words with them since sending them downstairs to the stables. “My siblings,” She reminded the Countess. 

Jacquelyn couldn't believe it. “Are they here?” 

“Yes, they're in the stables.” Violet confirmed with a nod. 

“Unfortunately they came as a package, but I was only really interested in Violet,” Esme sighed, playing idly withe many golden bracelets on her wrist, being able to distract herself only for a few more minutes before she would have to put an end to this pathetic emotional display. She couldn't care less what their relationship _had been,_ Violet was hers now. She wasn’t a free woman and she wasn’t going to be again. 

Something struck Jacquelyn about the way she said it, and Esme’s earlier words came back into her mind hauntingly clear. “I don’t mean to interrupt you Countess, but just know you said _why are you talking to my slave_ …? You couldn't have meant Violet?” She wanted to cradle the girl close to her again, but she could sense the mood on the balcony was shifting. 

“Don’t try to correct me.” Esme said scathingly, tossing her head and staring past them for a moment, catching the eye of her HouseGuard and nodding to them to force them apart. “I meant what I said. Violet is my slave and belongs to me, as do the other two.” Esme explained in a bored voice - she shouldn’t have to explain herself to a dress-maker of all people, but equally she wouldn’t want to be turning up to the next Gladiatorial Games in a pre-worn dress. It was the final after all, there was a lot of money riding on the outcome and a new dress was a necessity. She smirked quietly to herself paying attention only to the sparkling gemstones that adorned her fingers, as she heard the pained squeals of the two women being pulled apart by her Guards.

“No please - Domina!” Violet cried out, not wanting to be parted from the woman, but Esme didn't look up. 

 Jacquelyn was shepherded out the way towards the tables of material she had brought, Violet in the opposite direction out on to the balcony again. “I bought them legally at Auction so I don't know _what_ you’re so concerned about. Step back up on the stool, Violet.” She snapped her fingers at the girl, stepping in front of her and touching her hands to Violets waist to guide her more gently before she ordered the Guards to do it again. Violet shirked the touch away, but had little choice but to oblige. Esme was determined to get things back on track, they had wasted enough time on this already. 

Jacquelyn put her hands on her hips “I’m _concerned_ because she’s not a slave, she's a free woman who is set to inherit a large fortune when she comes of age, or marries, whichever comes sooner.” She paused, her mouth drying as she heard her words, saying more than she should have. “I was told you were all sent to the country to live with your Uncle Monty.” 

“That never happened.” Violet replied, her voice merely the breath of confusion, Jacquelyn’s words silencing her. A large fortune? Could it be true? Then she could buy her and her siblings freedom and they would be free of this life… Violets mind went into overdrive. 

“Enough! Measure her and be done,” Esme barked, waving over another slave with a pitcher of wine, who silently filled up the metal goblet which she swiped off the table recklessly, dropping onto the sofa and swinging the cup as she drank it down. “I’m not interested in hearing about all the unfortunate things that happened to you before you were mine. Because mine you are, and mine you will stay.” Her eyes were fixed on Violet. 

Violet couldn’t look away. They were dark and steely and strong, but mysteriously magnetic. “Yes Domina,” She murmured through whimpering lips. She held her arms out to the side as Jacquelyn pulled the long measuring tape from her bag and started measuring Violet around the hips, waist and bust, mentally storing the numbers. 

She took her time, enough time to let them whisper to each other., glancing over her shoulder briefly at Esme, who was peering suspiciously at a fruit salad that stood on the table next to her with the wine. “I’ll be back for you,” Jacquelyn whispered, lacing her fingers around Violets wrist and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Violet shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. If you have the coin buy Klaus or Sunny back, she doesn’t want them anyway and they’ll be safer with you. I can handle myself.” More than anything she wanted her siblings to be safe, and to be free. She firmly believed she had endured the worst of this life already, and that living under Esme’s rule would not be so harsh. The woman appeared vain and moody, but not as wicked as the men that had owned her before. 

“I’ll try my best.” Jacquelyn kissed her cheek quickly and moved away, nodding to the girl one last time before busying herself with the lengths of fabric, preparing them ready for Esme to choose from. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Esme strode from the balcony, fanning herself distractedly, her dress flowing behind her long strides baring her legs at various intervals. Violet followed behind, nudged every so often by a house Guard to keep her moving. She wanted to hear nothing more of Violets past, she belonged to her now. She needed to make that clear to the girl. “You - come to bed, the rest of you go,” Esme ordered, snapping shut the folding fan in her hand. Violet glanced between the other men and women, watching them file out after a respectful nod, and it dawned on Violet. _She means me_. 

Violet stood unmoving, an uncertain tremble of anticipation running up her back. She had not been  to bed with a woman before - not one on one like this. Her last master, Senator Underwood had been most prolific in his desires and so she had seen things, participated sometimes - but most of it was a performance. The slaves never did anything with each other, it was only for his entertainment. She watched Esme be undressed by her handmaids, expertly untying her dress, removing jewellery and pulling the long jewelled pins from her hair, and she lay herself out expectantly on the bed. 

“Come on pet,” She cooed, holding out an inviting hand to Violet to take. “Time to show me if you’re really worth what I paid for you,” Esme had a serious look in her eyes that made Violet nervous. She didn't want to go to bed with this woman, she had barely spent a day in her company, and such activities would only serve to remind her of her mistreatment at the hands of her last Master. 

Violet ignored the offer of Esmes hand, and remained steadfast. “I have other skills, Domina. Reading, poetry, I’m an adept inventor - I’m sure I could construct a system of fans and blades to keep the air moving through the Villa to keep you cool,” She suggested, appealing to the heat and complaints of the woman all day. Perhaps the favouring of her could be used in a different way, a better way above these base desires they all had, drinking and fucking was all these elite men and women of Rome seemed to do. She remembered the lives of her parents as so rich and varied, cultured and interesting. Was this all there was to it? Was she simply remembering her childhood through the eyes of her child-self, instead of those of the adult she now was. 

Esme sat forwards, narrowing her eyes. “Well right now, I don’t want to be cool. I want to be made hot and sweaty,” She snapped, snatching Violets wrist and pulling her up onto the bed. Violet knelt up and edged forwards; her naked body displayed before her like this it felt different to the baths. Intimate and soft, Violet thought it strange that such beauty would contrast so drastically with the sharp tongue and harsh words that spilled from her Mistresses mouth. She kept her hands in her lap, though Esme had not let go she was clearly waiting to see what she would do by herself. When nothing happened, she drew Violets hand to her, pressing her palm over her full, bare breast. Violet tried to pull back but Esme held her touch there, her breath hitching in her chest. Esme smirked, then tilted her head, curious as ever. “So tentative.”

Violet hung her head. “Forgive me, my last Master was a man,” She explained, foregoing for now any detail of what he had done with her. “I’m not used to …,” trailed off Violet. What she wanted to say was how she was only used to be shoved onto the bed, and not being a very active participant; that she only lay there as he got what he wanted, as many times as he wanted. In bed, over the breakfast table, at dinner with friends, _whenever,_ he had wanted. She may have been a house slave, but she was a favourite for other reasons. 

“Have you not lain with a woman?” Esme asked, an air of surprise in her voice. She pushed Violets robe apart and off her shoulders, her fingers caressing across Violets collar bone, down between her breasts and out to her hip bone, tracing the lines and bruises on her skin. She would be pleased when these healed, when she could admire all of her without the echoes of whomever came before still written there in dark blooms. 

“Not without company, no.” Violet watched how Esmes hand journeyed over her, and the strange sensations it created. It wasn’t that she was tender, but her gaze was one of adoration, discovery, not an assertion of power. As Esmes grip lessened on her hand, she dared herself to move her hand. She copied what Esme was doing, and gentle, with a degree of uncertainty, trailed her fingers lightly over Esme too.  

“Gunther failed to mention that,” She sighed in complaint. She held her arm aloft and beckoned - someone always just out of sight awaiting to handle her every need of course, who turned and appeared in the doorway with a small bow. “Fetch the bald one, he knows what I like.” They bowed and hurried away, as Esme sat up and reached for her wine. “Who owned you last, anyway?” She asked over the rim of her metal cup, running over tongue over her lips tasting the wine for a second time. 

Violet turned her head away, keeping her gaze far from the woman before her. “I’d rather not talk about it.” 

A laugh of disbelief tumbled from her lips. “You’re incredible, you talk with such an air of privilege. You’re a _slave_ , Violet. No wonder you’ve found yourself in such trouble.” She knocked back the rest of the cup and placed it on the floor beside the bed, flicking her hand at Violet in despair. “I mean look at you - Gladiators come out the ring with less bleeding and bruises than you have.” She was starting to doubt her spur of the moment spending. It was true she had requested something _different,_ from Gunther, to be surprised. He had delivered on that, and he had been honest that the girl indeed did need a fair degree of taming. But for all the punishment she had clearly endured, she still spoke with clarity and determination. That what she said carried weight and should be heard. It was remarkable, to find strength like that in a slave. 

But of course, she hadn’t always been one. Such traits would have set her up as a strong marriage prospect once, Esme mused. She wondered how on earth she would train such a thing out of her. 

“He was a cruel and dishonest man,” Violet argued vehemently. 

“And you likely deserved every lashing he gave you,” snapped Esme in reply. 

The Bald Man bowed as he entered the bedroom, a implausibly tall and well-muscled, he was an imposing man, and Violet shuffled back over the bed a bit. “Should I, go?” 

Esme flicked her hair over one shoulder and nestled back onto the tower of pillows, bringing on knee up and the other resting outward. The Bald Man climbed onto the bed mutely, taking Esmes silent nod as her desire to initiate. “Not on your life. You can kneel there,” She instructed, pointing off the bed as she felt his lips on her waist, kissing up her body, sucking her nipple and playing with the other simultaneously, working her up slowly. “Watch and learn, little rabbit,” She snapped her fingers at Violet to pay attention. 

Settling on the floor besides the bed, Violet was glad to be out of the centre of attention finally. She looked forwards, but let her vision blur and glaze over, not really watching. She wasn’t interested in learning how to please this woman, but instead took the time to picture the mechanism on the front gate, and estimate how heavy the gates were. She was sure with a little adjustment she could operate the levers remotely, and she would be out the gate in no time. There was the little matter of the Guards, however, and the need to bide her time for Klaus and Sunny’s sake. If Jacqueline could indeed home them, then she would have to worry only about her own passage. 

If Jacqueline bought them though, then Esme would know exactly where she would head. They would have to arrange a remote location as a meeting point, it would be too risky to go to Jacquelines shop, wherever it was. Violet knew little of the City’s layout, which would make choosing and location a meeting point trickier. She sighed, there was so much to think about. An anguished cry broke Violet from her thoughts, and she blinked as she refocused, seeing Esme arch her body and flop back on the bed again panting and laughing. “Now _that_ , is how you do it,” She grinned wickedly, patting him on the cheek and pushing the Bald Man off her again. He duly did, stepping off the bed to one side and drying his fingers. He tossed a strange sort of glare at Violet, and she wondered how he felt at suddenly having his Mistresses attention divided. “You see? A real man, doesn’t need his cock. He _could_ use it - and of course he does when I want it, but he doesn’t _need_ to. Theres a lot more you can do with your fingers.” Esme taught as she leant for her cup again, holding it aloft and the Bald Man filled it from a pitcher of wine on the console. She took a few refreshing sips, and put it aside. “Go for now. I don't want this little one getting stage fright.” 

Violet took a deep breath as he left, realising how tense she had been. But then they were alone again, and it was clear Esme’s eagerness to bed her had not dissipated. Pushing slowly to her feet, Violet sat on the edge of the bed again, biting her lower lip. “I don't think he likes me being here,” said Violet, distracting her Mistress somewhat. 

“Your presence is at my pleasure. Its not his concern,” replied Esme resettling herself on the pillows. 

She tightened the ribbon in her hair. “But, what if gets jealous?” 

Esme rolled her eyes. “I couldn't care less, he’s a slave not a person.” Violet sat back, eyes widening in horror at the statement. How could she say something so awful? This was not what she had been brought up to believe, and though everyone she had since worked for echoed this same view, hearing it said so bluntly was chilling. Violets realisation that though her new Master a woman, she was no less dangerous or cruel as the last. “Now put your mouth to better use than talking.” 

She nodded, and positioning herself over Esme, she closed her eyes for a moment and focused on what she had to do. For her life, her siblings lives, might depend on this performance. 

Violet pressed her lips lightly to Esme’s neck, finding her skin warm and soft beneath her lips. She kissed down her pulse point and to her throat, feeling her swallow and smile at the feeling. She lay her own bare hips between Esmes thighs and started to bend her body back and for, bucking their hips together just as she took Esmes nipple between her teeth. She heard the woman gasp, and felt her fingers scratch into Violets hair loosening her ribbon. “Yes … good …,” Esme murmured encouragingly, as Violet kept her hips at a steady pace the way she knew men to do, as her tongue flicked and sucked over Esme’s nipple, moving to the other side and doing the same. 

Esme nestled her fingers in the girls long dark hair, urging her body up to meet hers, letting her eyes fall shut. She was already warmed up and quite sensitive, so the acutely tender ministrations her new pet was showing her were delightfully perfect. Not too much, not too hard. Perhaps she wasn’t a waste of money after all, thought Esme, the words only loosely trailing through her mind as she felt the girl kiss lower down her belly, between her hips bones. “Oh fuck,” Esme gasped, the girls wet full of lips kissing her already tingling folds. She felt her nuzzle and purr between her legs, tensing almost immediately her hand crashing on the back of her head as she felt her tongue lap over her clit. “Gods!” She yelped, sitting up and falling back again as the jolt of electricity stunned her. Gunther wasn’t wrong. 

Violet kept her eyes closed and her mind focused, practising what she had only seen others do. She lapped her tongue over Esme’s centre, up through her folds to the small hooded bundle of nerves that held such power, ignoring that strange salty taste as best she could. She licked it again and again and again, relentless and purposeful. The more she did it the more the woman writhed, she struggled to keep in position and snaked one arm under her thigh to keep her steady. Her hips bucked and she cried out, but Violet didn't stop. She licked and licked with a feverish desperation, urging herself on until she heard the sounds she was waiting for, that sucking squeezing sound from between Esmes thighs, an inch or so from where she was working, and the heady groan of appreciation spilling from her lips as she came, hard. Violet slowed, and finally stopped when each lick caused a spasm down Esme’s thigh, a twist and a buck. She was done. 

Sitting up, Violet boldly reached for the woman’s wine up and drunk it down, needing to rid her mouth of the flavour. She rubbed her arm along her mouth and caught her breath. 

 

——————

 

Esme slowly came to, stretching her limbs with a lazy smile gracing her lips. She ran her tongue along her teeth, narrowing her eyes at the girl with what seemed to be regularly occurring curiosity. While Esme wasn’t watching she had dressed, lifting the sides of her dress back over her shoulders and used the silvery scarf to tie around her middle, accentuating her waist. She found it curious that the girl was attached to such a simple item, but took it as a good sign that maybe she could be swayed to her loyalty with the odd gift such as this, instead of needing to resort to such barbarism as her last master. 

Violet waited patiently on the end of the bed, still thinking and debating to herself. When she realised Esme was sitting up again and recovered from her orgasm, she turned to look over her shoulder. “Was that okay?” 

She huffed. “I think you bloody well know it was okay, you cheeky little thing.” She snapped her fingers and stood, stretching her body and neck this way and that as her handmaids poured back in the room and began dressing her in something fresh and clean. Blue this time, with pale silver and a sea-green selection of beading on the dress. “Pretending like you didn't know what you were doing.”    

“I didn’t,” Violet replied, watching the parade of caretakers fuss over every curl of hair and every twist of material until Esme looked perfect. It was ridiculous. 

Esme plucked her cup of wine from the side, frowning at finding it empty. Violet ducked her gaze with a blush as Esme scowled at her suspiciously. “Well then you’re lucky you’ve got a natural talent at it, considering you weren’t watching _at all_ the first time.” 

Her eyes snapped up quickly, blinking, self conscious. Fuck. Violet didn't know what to say. Should she deny the accusation and pretend she had of course been paying attention. Lie that she had obeyed. Or admit it, admitting she had ignored the woman’s order. Which would be worse for her. Violet didn't know, so decided to do the right thing, as only she could in such a situation. “You noticed.”  

Esme rolled her eyes, unimpressed with her ignorance. “For someone whose clearly had a good education, you really are stupid.” She drew a deep breath and held her hand out as if to a child, beckoning Violet with her. “Women may not exert their power in the Senate, or in business, but _we_ have the power, Violet. We hold the ear of rich and powerful men, whispering and influencing them to our will.” She taught her as she led through the halls to return them to the Atrium, where all other parts of the Villa could be accessed from. “All of that comes from a keen eye. In watching peoples behaviour.” She wagged her finger at Violet who listened with a distracted sigh. She had been caught out, but at least so far all she wanted to do was talk. Violet wasn’t much interested of course, but she had been so far not allowed to leave Esme’s company since the moment she arrived in the Villa, so was starting to get used to listening to it. “And I was watching you - not watching me.” 

“I’m very sorry, Domina,” Violet apologised, lowering her gaze and tucking her hands behind her back. She knew she was a safe for a while, considering the level of sexual proficiency she had displayed, but such favour was short and fleeting, Violet knew. 

“Yes well. Water under the bridge seeing as you didn't need the teaching anyway,” Esme waved it off, standing a little taller as they arrived in a small study just off from the main Atrium. “Ah there you are. Is your business concluded, love?” She asked, coming up behind Olaf’s chair and draping her arm over his shoulders and leaning down to kiss his cheek. 

“Yes, obviously seeing as they're not sitting here,” Olaf growled, shrugging her off. “Damn lucky too seeing as how you’ve been shrieking like a banshee for half an hour.” 

Esme straightened, obviously annoyed by his rebuff. “I was trying her out.” She gestured to Violet who was keeping herself quiet, and unnoticeable as possible. She didn't know the Count, but so far her experiences with the men of the world had not been pleasant. 

“You went shopping then,” He grunted, flicking his eyes toward Violet. He seemed bothered by something, switching papers around and around on the table as he ran his finger down tables of numbers. 

Esme nodded, folding her arms pleased with herself. She tried to shake off the fact Olaf was basically ignoring her and keeping the focal point her escapades at the Auction House. “Isn’t she adorable.” 

Olaf cast an examining gaze down her, and harrumphed, not answering. 

“Quite the steal too,” Esme continued, trying to pique his interest. 

“I hope you’re going to collar her,” muttered Olaf, shoving the papers down on the table with a slam of his fist. Something was clearly not to his liking. He stood with such force his chair fell over backwards and he stormed to the window, rubbing his chin. 

Violet already didn't like him. He seemed pre-occupied, distant and disinterested in his wife. No wonder she needed distraction and bought slaves for her bed like whores. Violet glanced at Esme, feeling a touch of pity for her if this is what she was married to all the time. One thing was certain, she was glad to belong to Esme and not him. Although he had paterfamilias and Esme would certainly have to defer to her husband, the point that Esme had bought her herself, been out in the City alone, spoke volumes to how much control he wielded over her - or in this case, didn’t. 

Esme backed off from the study table, seeing her husband was in a mood. Clearly his meeting with a certain Man with a Beard but no Hair and a certain Woman with Hair but no Beard, had not gone well. Her shoulders dropped and she wandered back over to Violet, coming behind her and combing her fingers through the girls hair, undoing the ribbon. “Well I wasn’t planning to,” she replied, settling her hands on the girls shoulders, an almost affectionate squeeze of the fingers holding her close. “It would ruin the whole look, she’s not going to be seen as a willing companion with one of those awful leather collars on,” Esme complained. “They’re _so_ out. ”

“I don’t care what’s in and whats out, Esme!” Olaf bellowed at her, turning from the window as he ran his hand up through his wild grey hair that stuck out at the back in peculiar angles, not that Violet wanted to look at him when he had such anger in his eyes. 

“Have you even looked at her?” Esme complained, her step faltering slightly at his outburst, but she didn't show it as she came round the back of the table again touching her hand to his arm. “Olaf. Look at her. She's beautiful.” 

Olaf quietened at her touch, sighing and looking properly at Violet, his eyes locking with hers. Something stirred in him he hadn't felt for a long time.

His mouth went dry. _Violet_ _Baudelaire_. She was here? How was she even alive? "You’re not keeping her." 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you every one for the renewed interest in this! Its great to know people are enjoying it and it spurs me on to write more and finish, so thank you <3

Esme folded her arms, lifting her shoulders as she took a breath in, bothered by him being so dismissive of her needs. Had she not done what he’d wanted? Kept out of his way, not asked questions, let him conduct his business … even if she was the one with the acumen for numbers. She had trained hard to be the Citys 6th most important financial advisor, and now since she was married, her husband took the credit for her work. “Darling, I just bought her I’m not sending her back.” Esme wandered around his desk to where Violet stood, staring between them both. She lounged over Violets shoulder, perching herself there wrapping one arm around her waist. She already liked the girl. 

“Its not your decision my pet, lest you forget.” He rubbed his fingers over his forehead tensely, watching the way his wife played with her. If they found out he had fucked up, his position in the City could go up in smoke. They controlled more than anyone realised, and being in business with them brought swift reward, but a steep fall if you mis-stepped. “I say she goes, she goes.”

Esme straightened, keeping one arm around Violet possessively. “But you told me to get out of your way, to go to the City - its not often I do as you ask but in this instance I did and you’re still not happy with me? Honestly Olaf I think your head pays far too much attention to those schemes and not enough on me,” Complained Esme, casting herself as the poor forgotten wife. Her fingers slipped through the layers of material swooping around Violets body for a dress, stroking her fingers over the girls skin. The touch of her reminded Esme the heights of pleasure she had been taken to under Violets delicate tongue, and had no desire to let go of the opportunity of more. 

“You have no idea how much pressure I’m under Esme!” Olaf shouted back at her. Why couldn't she just listen to him? Why had he agreed to marry her at all? 

Esme ran her tongue along her teeth and retracted her touch from Violet, nodding to a Guard. “Take her somewhere.” She needed to speak to Olaf and didn't want her new pet in the firing line. He was always stressed after meeting with those two strange business associates, senate officials or _whatever they pretended to be._ She knew they only from VFD, not what they did in the public domain.

Esme had hoped the story of her latest conquest would delight him, he usually didn't mind watching in fact, but with Violet it had seemed to have the opposite effect. The Guard stepped forward and halted at Esme’s side, waiting for further instruction. She waved Violet to go with him, who was more than glad to be out and away from the Count. He seemed much older than her Mistress, and far more volatile. What on earth was she doing married to him? She glanced curiously between them as she was ushered out. 

“Take her back - thats the _somewhere_ she's going,” He muttered. 

“No.” Esme said firmly. “Olaf … imagine what it would look like. That I can’t even manage my own household? Returning slaves! I don’t think I could handle the bad publicity!” She shrieked, sniffing a breath and shaking her head, getting a hold of herself again. “No no.” She clapped her hands together with a determined look in her eye. “The final of the Games are next week and if we have Violet then all eyes will be on _us._ ” She cooed, the blue and green dress shimmering as she soothed her hands over his back, hushing whatever disquiet was in his mind. 

He sighed his eyes shut. “Thats what I’m afraid of.”

“Its very fashionable to have lovers, Olaf.”

He felt a cup of wine pressed into his hand, and he looked at Esme, leaning her head to one side, a coy smile on her face. She was so _obvious_. “Yes love I know, but its only fashionable _for me_ to have lovers, not you. You’re my wife your sole focus is my cock and the running of this household.” He put the cup to his lips and messily drank nearly the whole cup in a few large gulps, droplets of red wine staining his plain creamy white toga. “Take her back or share her your choice.” He decided finally, perhaps something could be saved from this mess. _She still looked so much like her._ His heart ached. 

Olaf shoved the empty cup into her waist and drifted away from his wife to lift the chair back to its feet and gather his papers together. He needed to talk to his people. The Baudelaire brats were alive and well - which meant someone had not done as they were told. 

“Thats not fair!” Esme stamped her foot, careering after him angrily.

“Fetch the girl back.” He ordered.  “I’ll use rope if I have to but I will not have her under this roof without restraint.”

“But Olaf- my Darling, love of my life how about just this once - “

“Don’t try and use those tricks on me Esme,” He growled at her. She had played the same card too many times, he could see right through her even if other men could not. She was a useful woman, had her skills, and the Man with a Beard but not Hair had suggested the marriage. Though latterly they were of course disgruntled with her refusal to join in VFD’s plans. Esme didn't feel the need, she had everything she wanted. Why make life more complicated? Who cares who starts fires anyway? 

“She’s just a slave what are you so worried about?” Esme pouted. 

“She’s not just a slave she's a Baudelaire!” 

“A who?” Esme was confused. What was he going on about now? Then it dawned on her. She _had_ heard the name discussed, often accompanied with frowns of _‘they foiled our scheme again’_ or whatever those two freakish people went on about. Esme didn't like them. They had an aura of menace that she didn't like her husband getting dragged in to, but he insisted she didn't know what she was talking about and if it weren't for them he would be nobody. “Ohhh … not those god awful Volunteers you keep going on about?” 

He tucked his papers under his arm, nodding with unease. “Precisely, and they're meant to all be dead.” 

 

———————

 

Approaching footsteps halted in the doorway of Olaf’s study. “We cant seem to find her, Dominus.” The Guard declared, his voice deep and gravelly. He sounded tired. Esme frowned at him. Had he even tried? She wondered why they couldn't afford anyone better trained, considering the coin they were making. 

Olaf shook his head in disgust and bewilderment. “Run that by me again? She was here not two minutes ago!” The incompetence of these people seemed endless. He swung his arm at the man and paced to the door, watching him go tucking his papers under his arm. When the Guard looked around unsure where he was meant to be going or looking Olaf yelled again. “Go and find her!” 

“Have you checked outside? If she's anywhere she's probably gone to see those smelly siblings of hers,” Esme drawled, wondering what Olaf was getting so worked up about. So what if she was the daughter of a dead Volunteer? Or that she was going to inherit some fortune? The fortune and her parents were gone, she was a slave and that was that. Unfortunate things happen all the time; someone finds their husbands run up debts and they lose their home, or someone is forced to fight in the Arena to pay off his debts, or someone loses his wife in her birthing bed. Life was messy and painful and people died. 

“Uhhh Esme?” Olaf spun on the heel of his sandals, the long layers of toga waving as he stared at her, blinking incredulously. “Don’t tell me they're all here?”

She shrugged. “They came as a set.”

He slammed his papers back on the table with a growl. Now he _really_ needed to sort this out. Three Baudelaire brats running amok _not dead_ and turning up in his house thanks to his wife’s inability to see past her own selfishness. _She hadn’t known_ , he told himself. He shouldn't be mad. Its not as if Gunther would have told her their names, because it didn't matter. Slaves didn't have names.

But if she helped him, got involved in all the good he was doing with VFD,  lent her skills as a financial advisor for the greater good and not just their own accounts, then she would know the name Baudelaire, she would know how they had always got in the way, always protecting the citizens of Rome. 

Kit would have been a better wife. 

He pushed past Esme. “Rrrghh….!” Don't think about her now. She's not here. She's dead. 

Olaf stormed through the Villa himself, slaves watering the plants immediately jumping to one side of the tiled walkway not wanting to get in the way when their Master was in one of his moods. Esme trailed after him, snapping her fingers at her handmaidens to keep out the way too, who had emerged hearing their Mistress coming, and potentially in need of something. Thank goodness she had a good set of _them,_ at least. Some things like ones looks could not be compromised on. 

 

—————

 

Down in the stables, where Violet managed to shake her Guard and climb out one of the lower windows after a quick fiddle with the catch, she heard the commotion above them. She had long learned to make a mental map of her new surroundings, accustom herself to the sounds so she could be alerted to approaching danger. For the angry footsteps of her Master formed a knot of dread in her stomach. “Someones coming.” She said quickly, half standing from their crouching position to peer over the walls of the empty stable. “I’d better go.” 

Sunny threw herself at her big sister, making Violet feel guilty for having to go so quickly. “Do you have to? We could run, right now - Violet we could try!” Klaus urged her, they might not have had time to study the lock on the gate, or how far it would be to the City or who would stand in their way, but no-one was suspicious of them yet. They could make a break for it before anyone would even realise. 

She shook her head, drawing Sunnys arms off her, though it was painful. “Theres no time. Besides, where would we go? On foot and carrying Sunny we wouldn't get anywhere in time.”  

“Furd!” Sunny exclaimed, she had already made friends with two of the horses and toddled up to the wall of the stable pointing over it to her new friend indignantly.

Klaus was enthused. He didn't want them here any longer than they had to be, he couldn't bear thinking of the things Violet had had to endure for them in their last place. “Yes, good idea Sunny. We could use the horses. Its probably beneficial us being down here. We have plenty of time to plan.” Klaus tried to be positive. He was encouraged by Violets re-telling of what had happened bumping into Jacquelyn, he couldn't quite believe their luck. 

“I know you're down here!” Olaf shouted threateningly, his footsteps down the steps followed by the slap-slap sound of Esme’s heels and all her jewellery jangling. At least they could hear her coming too. Olaf swore at the Guard who fumbled with his keys, needing to open the interior metal gate between the upper and lower parts of the house, keeping the lesser servants and slaves contained out of sight. “Give me those!” He snatched the keys from the Guard and did it himself, the door creaking metallically as he swung it open. 

“That sounds like the Count…” Violet murmured, why was he coming after them? He sounded cross and worst of all, he poured such venom into his words. What had Esme said? Were they going to be sent back? 

“Be safe,” Klaus said in a hurry, giving his sister a hug and nodding. _Do it._ He said without words. 

She picked up the two ends of tongue clip and hugged him back. “You too.” He opened his mouth so she could do it, knowing that they had no choice. If their Mistress knew Violet had so easily worked out the mechanism and was able to remove it, they could do something worse and more permanent, like cut his tongue out. “Sorry I have to do this,” Violet winced apologetically, connecting the two ends of metal clip through Klaus’s tongue reverting him to bluh'ing incoherence once again. It might be frustrating, but at least it was temporary, he reminded himself. 

The House Guard spotted them in the stable and hauled Violet to her feet. “There you are. No-one gave you permission to be down here.” He barked, dragging her by the arm back down the rows of horses and to the gate, Violet staring desperately over her shoulder at her siblings, holding them in her sight as long as she could. 

But sooner than she would have liked she was pulled round a corner and to the base of the stairs where Count Olaf waited on the gate. The moment he saw her he snarled, and his arm swept up in the air backhanding her across the cheek. “Get upstairs.” He pointed through the gate with an angry frown, Violet noticing in horror that he didn't have two eyebrows, but one. A dark and dusty memory jogged in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, bidding those memories away, remembering lying in the ashes of her home amongst stone and rubble and everything she had held dear, the dark charred skeleton of someone smoking nearby. Her mother had told her a story once, about a man with one eyebrow. 

She shuddered, but the throb of her cheek spurred her back to where she was, her ankles smacking against the stone steps as she was taken up in to the Villa, Esme and Olaf behind her. Oncee into the atrium, the Guard let her go and she brushed herself down trying to regain some composure and dignity, what little she had of it through the meagre material Esme had dressed her in. “I haven't done anything wrong,” Violet said with resolve. She didn't have the measure of the Count yet, but the Countess she could work with. Her fingers lacing into the strands of silver fabric - the shawl she had still around her waist, looking pleadingly at Esme. She didn't know what they had argued about, only that the Count didn't want her here. 

Esme saw how she clutched the fabric, and she was stirred to action. “Olaf really- ? She's already so bruised.” Olaf paced back and forth in agitation. The Man with a Beard and no Hair and the Woman with Hair but no Beard wouldn't be back for a few weeks, until the next part of the plan was in motion. So he had time. But she couldn't be seen. Esme couldn't take her out to the Games or even out the Villa, it wasn’t safe. If word made it back to them that the Baudelaires were still alive? Perhaps it was easier to kill her now. Thats what they would want anyway. 

“Give me that.” He decided impulsively, grabbing a length of rope from the Guard and winding it around his fists. “Get on your knees Violet.” Olaf ordered, almost not wanting to look at her, his words spoken across the room, in a quiet almost regretful way. He had to do this. 

Violet trembled fearfully. The constant gushing of the fountain in the centre of the atrium where they were kept her mind clear, let her think and take her fear away from what was happening right in front of her. “You know who I am,” She mumbled, lifting her eyes to stare at him. It couldn't be true, could it? Maybe Esme had used her name to him. That must be it. 

“I gave you an order, _slave._ Kneel down.” 


End file.
